Bachman's « Dumpy Strip Malls

Memorial Day weekend is practically here & with its arrival, summer unofficially kicks off in a few hours. The “growing” season has arrived in Minnesota and what better way to celebrate that than a blog entry about an eerie, abandoned garden center?

Dumpy Strip Malls visited the Coon Rapids store, located on a lonely plot of land amongst the dead mall/store/restaurant graveyard that is Coon Rapids Blvd. Long abandoned since 2004, time hasn’t been kind to this former nursery. It looks like something out of the movie I Am Legend. Very creepy – I half expected that dog from the movie to pop out at any second.

Frank's Nursery now looks like a scene straight out of I Am Legend.

Potting soil, hanging annual baskets, cedar chips, rose bushes — yep, Frank’s had everything to make your backyard look like a wilderness escape scene or a tropical oasis. Whether you were an aspiring Nancy Botwin looking for growlights, a gypsy looking to plant “magic beans”, a 10 year old blowing his allowance on a Chia Pet, a professional landscaper looking for a solution to zap broadleaf weeds, or just someone who wanted gussy up their backyard with plastic pink flamingos, Frank’s could be of service.

They also sold crafts, but their selection was nowhere near that of a Michael’s. Think more on the scale of the Wal-Mart fabric section or that of a Ben Franklin. Frank’s craft selection was serviceable – they sold things like silk flowers, spools of colorful yarn, glass beads, latch hook kits to make a shag rug with a design of an owl’s head. Frank’s also turned into Christmas Central during the holiday season. The nursery area would transform into a Christmas tree farm, conveniently bringing the old fashioned holiday family tradition of chopping down a coniferous evergreen pine straight to you without the hassle of lugging a dangerous axe out into the woods.

I always thought this store was owned by my uncle. No, not the crazy one I wrote about before, who bodyslides down bowling alley lanes and gives me “ghost shit” f or Christmas. That’s uncle Tim. Uncle Frank is normal, and apparently, I thought he was in the gardening and crafts business.

Even though he looks like Niles from Frasier, Frank’s a “guy’s guy” and probably the last dude you’d expect to find sprucing up a flowerbox or doing a Precious Moments needlepoint. Frank’s into hunting, big dogs, and camouflage dungarees. He’s the type of guy who can’t control himself in the Sportsman’s Warehouse. Get the picture? But when you’re a kid, that’s how your thought process works — you know a guy named Frank, you see a place of business with said name, and voila! Frank owns it! Simple logic, duh.

Who’s the real Frank? Some dude in Michigan who started a grocery store that quickly evolved into a nursery. Michigan, you say? Oh, that’s right. Did you think this was a local chain exclusive to Minnesota? Sorry to be a wet blanket, but think again. Don’t worry, I thought the same thing, until I did a little research. Turns out Frank’s was just another “evil big box store”, spanning 14 states. Want more detailed info on Franks? Read the memoir over at Wikipedia.

Franks went bankrupt and closed all of its locations in 2004. I don’t remember any sort of public outcry over the loss of Frank’s. It must’ve went away quietly in the night, without anyone noticing they were gone until, much like retirement of former Minnesota Viking Gary Anderson. You never notice he’s not here anymore, until you start reminiscing about the heart-robbing 1999 AFC Championship Game every fucking time the Vikes are trying to kick a goddamn field goal. Yes, I am bitter and it still hurts.

With Frank’s gone, Minnesotans would now need to reach out to Home Depot, Lowe’s, Menards, Bachman’s, Linder’s, Gerten’s, Wal-Mart, Fleet Farm, the Nicollet Mall Farmer’s Market, the mobile nursery in the Cub Foods parking lot, or the New Hope Kmart for our gardening needs. Oh no! With such few choices, how will clueless idiots like myself find more houseplanets to kill?

Wikipedia notes that many Frank’s locations around the country are still sitting abandoned because the strange structure of the building and lot. There might be more empty locations in Minnesota other than the Coon Rapids location. I know that the Roseville Frank’s was razed a few years ago and is now some sort of golf superstore.

I really enjoyed going to Frank’s – when we went here, it was always with Grandma at the location somewhere in South Minneapolis. I loved going here to look at all the pretty hanging baskets. Plus it smelled like SUMMER to me — meaning fertilizer and fresh cut grass. Yum.

My grandma had the most spectacular outdoor garden, thanks to Frances. She bought all kinds of annuals, bulbs, and hanging baskets. Her backyard even had a little retaining pond & she would plant marigolds all around it. The pond looked pretty, but in reality it was just a place for mosquitoes and other pesky bugs to breed.

I’d always beg grandma to buy morning glories whenever we’d go to Franks. I liked morning glories for no other reason other than they were blue. I had an unhealthy obsession for anything blue back when I was a tot. Especially blue food. Didn’t matter what it was; I just liked to eat and drink blue things. Damn good thing my parents kept the antifreeze on a high shelf in the garage.

So Grandma had a knack for outdoor gardening, but indoor plants were a different story. Grandma had a masochistic side to her. She would purchase unsuspecting spider plants, then lure them into the den, incarcerating them in one of the weirdest contraptions to come out of the ’70s since waterbeds and lava lamps — those blasted macrame houseplant holders. She’d stand on the davenport and hang (gasp!) the unsuspecting plants inside the crafty containers from the ceiling hooks, turning the room into a full-on botany torture chamber. Grandma, the crazy executioner she was, would either let them die of thirst and proclaim her innocence – “I watered them every day! How could this happen?” Or she’d stuff the soil full of plant food spikes and watch them OD on Miracle Grow, madly cackling away, seeing the ‘roided up plants crash ‘n burn. Who says the highlight of a senior citizen’s day is the 4pm seating at Perkins? When the plants would finally pass on, Grandma would be on the horn with my mom again, asking her to take her Franks to buy more spider plants. I’m surprised Grandma was never charged with several counts of first degree murder in the ruthless death of hundreds of innocent houseplants. I just think Grandma hated those fucking ugly spider plants and, like Bob Barker, just wanted to do her part to help control the population. Awww, lovable Grandma <3

Anyway, I never realized how much work a garden is until we planted one this spring. We started a beautiful flower and vegetable kingdom. We bought a bunch of flowers, bulbs, veggie plants, and Northrup King-brand seeds from Bachman’s nursery and planted them just this past Sunday. And here it’s Thursday, and the death count is already at two. (And I doubt it’s Bachman’s fault…) I should’ve just tried to find some magic beans to plant, a la Jack & the Beanstalk.

Weeding, watering, Miracle Growing. Nearly EVERY DAMN night after work. Holy hell, it’s a lot of labor for few bell peppers that I can buy for pennies on the dollar down at Cub. I could see how gardening would be fun and relaxing for some folks — especially retirees. They love puttering around in the backyard. For me, gardening is nothing but trouble and I’ll bet you that by mid June, the “beautiful vegetable kingdom” we have today will be turned into a compost heap, thanks to me. It does look lovely though. Could perhaps hire a gardener, but that’s a bit expensive, plus it often ends in tears –remember the time on Desperate Housewives when Carlos caught Gabrielle sleeping with the groundskeeper?

Whew. All this talk about gardening makes me feel guilty. Like I should be outside tending to the garden or at least sitting out on the patio sipping iced cold lemonade and looking at the garden.

What am I doing instead? Writing a bunch gibberish about some long-abandoned garden center that no one really cares about while watching the cat snack on the houseplants.